


getaway car

by EnigmaOfShipwreckIsland



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I Don't Even Know, Inspired by Taylor Swift, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26116159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnigmaOfShipwreckIsland/pseuds/EnigmaOfShipwreckIsland
Summary: After Victor is accused of domestic violence, Chris suggests he gets a fake boyfriend to prove his innocence.
Relationships: Christophe Giacometti & Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri
Comments: 54
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1

“…it’s too bad.”

“…always thought he was too perfect.”

“…didn’t think he was the type.”

“…didn’t think he had it in him…”

“…Alex deserved better than…”

Victor Nikiforov pulled the hood of his jacket over his face with his free hand as he walked down the street. He had not been out in weeks. Not since he returned from the World Championships in Tokyo and found himself being served restraining order papers at the airport in front of press cameras. It was the most humiliating moment in his life. Questions had turned from questions about his fifth gold medal and his successful career to what he was being served for.

By the time he and Coach Yakov made it to the taxi, the questioning had evolved to if he had seen the news, the photos. Did he know that Alex Lebedev had accused him of domestic violence? Had he seen the photos? Why had he left his partner with broken bones? Had he abused past partners? How much did his coach cover up?

In the weeks that followed, Victor stayed in his old apartment with his dog as his world seemed to fall apart around him. His social media inboxes were full of hate messages. Several of his sponsors had dropped him. The few that actually kept him wanted to renegotiate their contracts. His coach barely spoke to him, only calling once in that time to check on him. Most of his rink mates didn’t even do that much, with the exception of Yuri Plisetsky.The teenager was smart enough to know that, if he wanted to be the next world champion, he needed to learn from the current one.

Victor was not sure how much Yuri was learning from him while spending the every weekend playing video games on his living room and cooking unhealthy meals in his kitchen.

As soon as he walked into his apartment, Victor picked up his phone from the kitchen island. He left it there on purpose. With all of the messages still coming in, it vibrated too much. It was distracting. All of the hateful things people were saying about him were distracting. The way their words stung him were painfully distracting. Especially since none of it was true.

He had several missed calls from Chris, along with a text message: I have an idea call me

“A boyfriend,” was the first thing the Swiss skater said as soon as he answered the phone.

“A what?” Victor asked as he gave Makkachin one more scratch behind her ears. He still had a whole bag of groceries to put away, though most of it was just going into his cabinets.

“Mon amie, it’s simple,” Chris said, his smile practically audible through the call. “You need someone to say you’re not the ass they’re saying you are. What better than another boyfriend?”

“I don’t know.”

“After this dies down, you can break up. Say it was a rebound. It’s normal to have a rebound.” Chris continued. He sounded like he put a lot of thought into this. It sounded cruel though, to use someone just to salvage his own reputation. Too cruel. Something like that could shatter someone. No one deserved that.

Besides, who would want to date him after this, for real or not?

* * *

Yuuri Katsuki sat on his bed, staring down at the posters in his hands. Victor Nikiforov looked so beautiful in those photos. So untouchable. So perfect. He seemed the same in real life. The living, breathing god of figure skating, offering a commemorative photo with a smile. And to think he thought he’d ever be at the same level as Victor Nikiforov. That was the moment he realized that he had been a fool. It was an impossible dream.

And now this. Victor Nikiforov had been accused of domestic abuse! As soon as he heard, Yuuri took down the posters. Not out of anger at him. Not out of shame of being his fan for so long. Not even out of a unfounded sense of betrayal. He didn’t need the daily reminder that no one was perfect. Not even his idol. Still, Yuuri refused to throw away the posters, or destroy them as some former fans had done in videos. He thought about throwing them away, and had even gone as far as bringing them to the recycling bin, but he just could not let them go. Instead, they were rolled into a cardboard tube he kept under his bed.

Something about this didn’t quite sit right with him. The stories didn’t seem to match Victor’s friendly personality. But then, that was Victor Nikiforov, the most decorated man in men’s figure skating. His private life was a mystery. The only people who would know the truth of their relationship was Victor and Alex Lebedov.

Alex Lebedov had photos of bruises. He claimed there were witnesses to the famous figure skater shouting at him, berating him mercilessly for nothing. There were press photos of him with his arm in a cast. The media reported stories of those injuries being caused by his partner.

Victor Nikiforov had gone silent.

 _‘Why doesn’t he say anything?’_ Yuuri wondered, a question he asked almost constantly. He understood better than anyone wanting to keep his private life private, but even he felt that this was too much. Victor needed to say something. Anything was better than nothing at this point. Even a public admission would be better than this silence.

The silence was damning.

Yuuri looked at the bare walls, the empty closet, then at the last few boxes by the door. Everything he had brought from home was in those boxes, ready to go back. They would be back in Hasetsu by the end of the week. He would be there soon after. Yuuri thought about leaving the posters behind. He could let them go, like every other part of his life in Detroit. Like the textbooks he sold, the costumes he donated, the long list of exes.

He heard the stories. Yuuri Katsuki was a tease. All words, all flirting, no follow through. He didn’t understand it. Despite being so private, it seemed everyone and their mother knew about every person he’d ever dated, but none of the details. Every first date, he made sure to warn that he wanted to go slow. Apparently, he had a different definition of slow, because they always started to pushing for more faster. Always made him feel like they wanted to force him into their expectations of their relationship with no regard to his feelings. That is, until the first anxiety attack hit and he lashed out. That always scared them away.

Now, with his reputation stained by the string of ex-almost-lovers, who would want to date him?

Suddenly, his phone rang. Yuuri was surprised to receive a call from this number after months of questioning it. He didn’t remember saving this contact, and the name “Blue Eyes White Dragon” told him nothing. Then, after the disaster that was his nationals, he decided not to call it himself. He didn’t want to look desperate. He almost didn’t answer. “Moshi-moshi. Watashi wa Katsuki Yuuri desu.”

“Yuuri! Can I call you that?”

Yuuri stopped breathing. This was a dream. This had to be a dream. There was no way this was actually happening. There was no way this was who he thought it was. No way the mystery number belonged to him. “Victor?”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since Sochi,” Victor said, unaware that Yuuri was currently having a mini existential crisis. An existential crisis he was about to make even worse. “Please be my boyfriend?”

“WHAT?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god! I didn't not expect this work to get this much attention! (*^_^*) Thank you!
> 
> *Truthfully, I had no idea what to write for this chapter...and then I thought about steak fries...so yeah this chapter brought to you by the random craving for steak fries....*
> 
> Also, I know my profile says that this updates on Sundays, but it looks like I'm going to be spending most of the day tomorrow without wifi (the horror) so you're getting this a day early.

“Let me get this straight,” Phichit said as he waved around a steak fry. “Victor Nikiforov, the guy you’ve been crushing on since forever, calls you out of the blue asking to go out with you, and you say you’ll THINK ABOUT IT?!”

Despite living together, he had not had a chance to tell his best friend about the call until his last night in the States. Rather, he had been avoiding him so he could possibly get away without saying anything at all. Not that it was hard. Between bombing at the Japanese Nationals, just barely graduating, and the two (or was it three?) break-ups, Yuuri’s life had been a mess. He actually slept through his alarm on the couch his boyfriend’s apartment the month before and missed his original flight home.

Instead of simply catching the next flight, Yuuri had a panic attack in the passenger seat of his then-boyfriend’s car. Steve told him to calm down. That he was over-reacting. Yuuri snapped back that he always said that. Always said that he was over-reacting. He couldn’t possibly be over-reacting all the time. It would be nice if he cared about more than the happy parts of his life. Yuuri was more than just a pretty face and figure skating medals. Steve claimed to understand that. He didn’t. Yuuri knew he didn’t. They never did. He said as much.

The problem was that his boyfriend’s name was Michael. Steve had been the last ex, or was it the ex before?

“How did the Victor Nikiforov get your number anyway?”

“I guess I gave it to him?” Yuuri said as he bit into his burger. He had no memory of saying anything to Victor during the Grand Prix. He remembered silently walking away from him, running like a coward. Apparently, they had talked. Or, at the very least, exchanged numbers.

“Wait. Weren’t you still with…Michael? Marcos? Haruki? Jason?”

Yuuri wanted to sink into the booth as Phichit continued to list names. In the years they had been roommates, his best friend had seen a number of boyfriends pass through their door. He couldn’t blame him for not remembering which guy it had been at the time. Yuuri couldn’t even track of it. “So?”

Phichit suddenly froze. Yuuri had been waiting for that moment. They had been eating breakfast together when the story broke. He helped Yuuri cancel his second flight and book another. He took down the posters and boxed up the figures with him. He even changed the passwords to Yuuri’s Victor Nikiforov fan accounts to keep him from seeing the negative comments. According to the Thai skater, they were all negative. Even though the bios for the accounts plainly stated that they were fan accounts with no association with Victor Nikiforov, people still attacked. Still accused him of promoting domestic violence and enabling abusers.

“It’s a lot to think about.” Finishing his burger, Yuuri dipped a fry into the tiny cup of ketchup. This time a month ago, he would have jumped on the chance to date his idol. That call would have made his day, week, month, year, life. Yuuri Katsuki could have died a happy man. A part of him was still super excited. There was a small part of his brain that was still processing _‘Oh my god! VICTOR NIKIFOROV called me!’_ A bigger part of his brain reminded him of the stories. The photos that had come out of his ex-fiancé with broken bones and bruises. That dating Victor Nikiforov could be a risk.

Was Victor worth the risk?

Did Yuuri care?

“You know, Yuuri,” Phichit started to say as he picked up a cheeseburger slider, “if things don’t work out, you could always leave.”

_‘If things don’t work out, I could die,’_ flashed through Yuuri’s mind. Forget the money. Victor’s ex had broken bones. He knew Alex was at least his current weight, though the Russian was a children’s hockey coach while Yuuri had been binge-eating for months. He knew that, during figure skating season, Alex Lebedov was bigger than him. In photos, he was visibly bigger than Victor, yet he was the one with his arm in a cast and photos of bruises. 

What only shattered the hockey instructor’s arm could easily kill him.

Phichit missed the increasingly unsettled look on Yuuri’s face. “You could leave and sue for millions.”

“I don’t want his money,” Yuuri stated, suddenly not hungry anymore. Sure, he could use more money. They could all use more money. Sponsorships, scholarships, financial grants, and family allowances only went so far. Still, Yuuri never dated for money and was not about to start now. Even if Victor Nikiforov’s pocket change could probably pay off all of his debts and cover the much-needed repairs to his family’s onsen.

They sat for a minute, listening to the classic rock music in the background as Phichit finished his plate. Yuuri looked down at his phone. He didn’t change the contact name. He felt better knowing that Victor Nikiforov was not saved on his phone as Victor Nikiforov. At least this way, if someone looked, they wouldn’t know that he had the world champion’s number.

“Phichit-kun, what if he wasn’t being serious?” Though it wasn’t his first time thinking it, it was his first time saying the words. What if Victor only called him out of boredom? What if he didn’t mean “boyfriend” in the romantic sense but platonic. The Russian man had plenty of friends. Maybe he just wanted to add him to his list.

“Aren’t you friends with Christophe Giacometti?”

“I know him,” Yuuri replied, suddenly unwilling to look away from his phone. Chris. His performances were always…something else. Yes, the Swiss skater’s performances were amazing and he deserved every award he’d won, but did his theme have to be so provocative every year? Rather, did his programs always have to straddle the line between figure skating and foreplay-on-ice?

Chris was also known to have a long string of exes. Unlike Yuuri, though, it was a very satisfied list of lovers, spring flings, and summer loves. The only reason Chris usually ended up single during the season was (officially) that his training and competition schedules simply did not allow for dating. All of his competitors and their coaches knew it was so he could hook-up wherever without feeling guilty the next day. Sometimes, he’d hooked up with his fellow competitors. He was even rumored to have dated Victor right before the world champion was seen with Alex.

“He’s Victor’s best friend. Ask him,” Phichit reasoned as he grabbed the dessert menu from the condiment holder and stood it between them. “He would know.”

“I can’t just ask him!”

“Fine. I’ll ask him. Best man to best man.”

“Wait! What?” Sure enough, when Yuuri pulled the menu away, Phichit was already typing away on his phone. “Phichit-kun no!”

“Phichit-kun yes!” the Thai skater said to himself as he turned away from the table. “…and sent!”

Not thirty seconds later, Yuuri’s phone started vibrating on the table. It was one of those things Yuuri honestly dreaded more than he’d ever admit: a call. “Phichit, what did you do?” Yuuri half mumbled half whined as he saw Chris’s name appear on the screen. He knew Chris. He knew Chris would keep calling until he answered. He may as well get this over with. “Hi Chris, how are-”

“Yuuri! Victor won’t stop talking about you,” Chris said. It was a lie. They had not spoken since he suggested Victor get into a fake relationship. In fact, he had forgotten the conversation until he got the direct message from @phichit-chu, asking if he knew anything about Victor asking Yuuri out.

It wasn’t his first time lying for Victor though.

“What?”

“He won’t stop talking about how gorgeous you are.” This was not far from the truth. All of the senior skaters thought Yuuri Katsuki was beautiful. It was those big brown eyes and those graceful movements both on and off the ice when he thought no one was looking. Chris knew Victor was enchanted by the Japanese skater even before Sochi.

Yuuri couldn’t help blushing. Victor Nikiforov thought he was gorgeous. Guys don’t describe their friends as gorgeous. “Really? Me?”

“Yuuri, mon cheri, you may want to talk to him soon,” Chris warned teasingly, He knew Victor better than most. “Victor can be impulsive when he wants something.”

“What do you mean-”

Phichit’s soda sprayed across the table as he stared at someone walking towards them. “Holy shit! Yuuri!”

“Oh! I love fries!” Victor said happily, sliding in next to a stunned Yuuri to pick at the leftover steak fries on his plate. The moan that came out of him sounded like he was doing something far more explicit than eating cold fries. “I haven’t had fries in FOREVER!”

* * *

Yuuri watched as Victor Nikiforov demolished the house special burger and two more fresh serving of steak fries after he finished Yuuri’s leftovers. _‘Is this happening?’_ he thought to himself. He knew he wasn’t dreaming. He was almost sure his arm would bruise from where he pinched himself. “Victor, what are you doing here?”

The Russian skater pause just before biting his burger. It was huge. Two thick beef patties with lots of cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and the special house sauce that oozed out onto his hands with every bite. “Eating the best burger of my life.”

Yuuri sipped his drink. After Phichit left (Victor paid for his meal in exchange for watching his poodle), Yuuri had switched his water for a mudslide. Truthfully, he almost ordered something stronger than the spiked milkshake, but decided against it. He didn’t want the Russian to think he was an alcoholic. “I mean why are you in Detroit?”

Victor shrugged, chewing the bite. He pushed his plate toward Yuuri, offering his fries. Again. Every so often during his meal, despite Yuuri saying he was full, he kept trying to feed him. “I have time. I wanted to see you. So, here I am.”

Finally giving in, and much to Victor’s visible delight, Yuuri took a fry. They did taste better warm, especially with the sweet drink. Soon, he was picking at the other man’s third (and hopefully last) order of fries. Sharing the hot fries, Yuuri found himself relaxing in the World Champion’s presence. Or maybe it was the alcohol kicking in. Either way, he didn’t feel as nervous. “Victor, I’m flying to Japan in the morning.”

For a moment, Victor stared at him in shock. He heard a rumor. Yuuri Katsuki was retiring. After finishing last at the Grand Prix Finals and then bombing at his own Nationals, many thought it was time for him to retire. No one seemed to care that he would have medaled in Sochi if he hadn’t done so badly in his free program. His short program score was high enough. His performance scores all season were high, sometimes even higher than Victor’s. Yet, all everyone seemed to see the final results. Including Yuuri Katsuki.

“I know you’re still thinking about us,” Victor said as he set the remaining part of his burger down. He hoped Yuuri was still thinking about it. “I wanted to tell you in person, before everyone else finds out: I’ve been suspended from competing in the Grand Prix series this season.”

Yuuri dropped his fry. Suspended. Victor Nikiforov was suspended from the Grand Prix series. It seemed impossible. This was Russia’s Living Legend. The Five-Time World Champion. Most Medaled Athlete in Figure Skating History. This man took home gold in every competition for the last five years. There were action figures of him. A cologne named for him. He helped design a collection of dog supplies. Vicchan’s collar was from that collection.

Vicchan. In the last five years, Yuuri had gone back to Japan for Nationals every year, yet not once spent any time at home. He always had his classes as an excuse. All he had to do was say that he would fall farther behind if he didn’t go back to the States as soon as possible, and his parents wouldn’t argue. If only he had gone back just once. Then, he might have seen Vicchan before

“Yuuri?”

He blinked, realizing that he had tears running down his face. He wiped his eyes with his hands. “Sorry. It’s not you. I mean, I do feel bad that you are not competing, but it’s my dog.” Yuuri stopped as he sipped his drink again. To try to clear his head a little. “He died at home before I could see him.”

“During finals,” Victor guessed. He didn’t need to ask. It made perfect sense. Something clearly got to Yuuri before his free skate. Something heavy. Any skater watching him as he stumbled through his steps and fell on every jump knew that something was wrong. Everyone had assumed it was a bad break up. Even he had thought the same as he watched him after. This made so much more sense to him.

“I should have gone home sooner,” Yuuri said, half to himself. He looked down at the plate of golden yellow fries between them. Like the medals he promised his parents and never delivered. “Maybe I can teach ice skating in-”

“I’m going to stop you there, Yuuri Katsuki,” Victor said with a grin. “What if I went to Japan with you…as your coach?”

His thoughts stopped so suddenly that Yuuri could almost feel his mind go blank. Victor Nikiforov was offering to go to Japan. Victor Nikiforov was offering to coach him. If he accepted, he would have the five time world champion as his own personal coach. This could be a dream come true.

Or a nightmare. The only reason Victor had time to do this was because he had been accused of domestic violence. Otherwise, there was no way he would give up his chance at a sixth Grand Prix gold for a dime-a-dozen skater like him. What will happen when he disappointed him, as he felt he was bound to do? How would Coach Nikiforov react to him failing to meet his probably high expectations.

Still, Yuuri did want to compete.

He didn’t want to retire yet.

He did want to give Victor a chance.

Yuuri didn’t like eye contact, almost as much as he hated phone calls. Still, he needed to look Victor in the eyes for this. He needed to be absolutely sure the Russian man knew he was serious about his decision. It was clear that Victor was likely to follow him to Japan either way. There was no coach to hold him back, and Yuuri was not sure if he was entirely comfortable with someone potentially dangerous having authority over him. He wanted to be equals in this. “If I bring you home, it’s as my boyfriend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was almost two chapters, but I decided one meal should be one chapter. 
> 
> You cannot tell me that Victor Nikiforov would not release a dog supply collection with lots of high quality dog collars, fluffy beds, and super pretty food and water dishes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I can’t write without some drama. The Leo in me craves drama 
> 
> =^.^=

Yuuri ended up cancelling his third flight to Japan. While he wanted to get home as soon as possible, he wanted to make sure Makkachin had a chance to rest from her flight from Russia. Plus, this gave him some time with Victor before introducing him to his family as his boyfriend.

His boyfriend, Victor Nikiforov.

Yuuri watched as Victor slept with his head on his shoulder, his journal lying forgotten on his lap with his pen hanging from the book’s ribbon. He smiled as he pulled the journal out of the other man’s hands to put it in their carry-on bag. Though it would have been an invasion of privacy, he wished he could read Cyrillic. As it was, the only thing he could read on the page was the day’s date and a number. Yuuri knew (not from stalking other fan-blogs) that that was the number of days since Victor left Saint Petersburg for Worlds in Tokyo. Days since Victor last saw his ex-fiancé.

He paused for a moment when he saw the dark red stains on the smudges on the brown leather cover. Blood?

Yuuri looked back at the sleeping man next to him. He was so calm, so peaceful. He looked a little fuller, a little healthier, and his skin had a soft pink undertone that wasn’t there when he first arrived in Detroit. Seeing him like this reminded Yuuri of an old photo of Victor that was leaked a few years before. In the photo, the silver-haired man had fallen asleep on a bench at his home rink with his Olympic jacket folded as a pillow and brown trench coat as a blanket. Taking another look at Victor, he realized that he was wearing the same jacket from that photo. When he thought about it, that particular jacket had not been seen in photos in years.

Not since he started dating Alex Lebedov.

With a sigh, Yuuri rested his head on Victor’s. This close, he could see a faint mark on his scalp, hidden under his shining silver hair. Nothing too unusual. He had a few odd head injuries himself from skating, though nothing ever serious enough to be hospitalized. Also from sliding down poles too fast, once from being in the wrong place during a baseball game, and an embarrassing number of times from trying to grab a piece of food from the floor within five seconds and underestimating the distance from the edge of the table. Victor Nikiforov didn’t seem like the type to chase after dropped food.

Then again, he did eat almost four servings of steak fries, a large burger, and then split a huge piece of cake with him that first night.

During their weekend together in Detroit, Victor ended up dragging him (and sometimes Phichit) to every diner, fast food restaurant, and food truck he saw. Yuuri watched in amazement as the Russian skater practically ate his own weight in greasy foods. It was like he’d never seen a dry hot dog, a greasy pizza, or a messy burrito in his life. He savored every single bite like it was the greatest gift from heaven. Yuuri couldn’t wait to see him try his mother’s katsudon. Maybe he would passionately honor the five-second rule?

Yuuri also noticed that, when given the chance, Victor bought lots of snacks. Every time they passed a convenience store or gas station, he had to stop in. He always walked out with a bag full of trail mix, nuts, jerky, protein bars, and (if available) dog treats. He also paid for everything in cash. In the few glimpses Yuuri caught he caught of the other man’s wallet, he never saw any bank or credit cards. Besides the wad of cash, all Yuuri saw was his driver’s license, a folded piece of paper, and a photo of Makkachin.

Resisting the sudden urge to sneak a kiss to that silver hair, Yuuri closed his eyes instead. They had a few hours before they landed. A few more hours of the peace and quiet that came with flying at night. In far too little time, they will be in Japan. He hoped that no one recognized them in the first airport and that their flight information hadn’t leaked. He wanted to get to Hatsetsu before the news broke that he was Victor Nikiforov. That Victor Nikiforov was with him. That they were together.

* * *

Either the face masks worked far better than they gave them credit for and literally no one recognized them, or no one cared. Either way, nobody bothered them. They managed to get their luggage, pick up a groggy Makkachin, and take the train to Hasetsu in peace. Yuuri was thankful for that. Despite sleeping for most of the flight, Victor still looked tired. Sure, he could see him smiling at him from the crinkles in the corners of his blue eyes, but the moment Victor thought he looked away, Yuuri saw the smile slip.

“Oh my god! Yuuri! It’s YOU!” Victor shouted as soon as the elevator door opened, his face suddenly lighting up like when he saw the fries that first day.

Yuuri wanted the ground to swallow him. Can the floor drop like a trap door? That can happen, right? That would be better than facing the old posters of himself. That would be better than watching Victor pull down his mask and stand in front of them with his phone in hand.

“Yuuri! Take a selfie with me!” Victor shouted as he pulled Yuuri closer. He wrapped his arm around his shoulder and used a finger to pull his mask down.

Just as Yuuri smiled for the picture, Victor kissed his cheek and took the shot. For a moment, Yuuri was too shocked to say anything. His cheeks still felt warm when he finally managed to say the other man’s name.

“What? You look beautiful!” Victor said with a smile, typing on his phone. Yuuri couldn’t help but to pout a little at the phone. Ever since they officially started dating, the Russian had been dying to share every moment with the world. Strange, considering how private he was before. Yuuri didn’t like it. He wanted to keep their relationship to themselves as much as possible. He got Victor to agree to wait to share anything on social media, as long as he could send them to Chris. That seemed fair enough that both of their best friends knew.

Yuuri knew he was going to hate himself for this. He already was not too happy with himself just at the thought. Victor looked so happy with just that one selfie. “Do you want to post that one?”

Victor paused mid-typing to look at him, his blue eyes wide in excitement. “Really?”

“I did say we should wait until we got to Hasetsu.” Any regret that may have already started bubbling up quickly dissolved when he saw the way Victor’s face lit up. This was possibly the most stunning smile Yuuri had ever seen. It was like seeing a brilliant double rainbow after a storm. Not even on the podium with a gold medal hanging from his neck did Victor Nikiforov wear a smile that dazzling.

Yuuri decided that he could share every single second of their budding relationship with the entire universe if it meant he could see Victor smile like that again.

It only took a few moments for Yuuri to feel his phone vibrate in his pocket. He saw the look on Victor’s face as the smile faded. The comments had started. He knew they were going to be nasty. Yuuri was just out of another relationship. Victor’s had crumbled with him being accused of domestic violence. He doubted they would get much support. He decided that they could deal with it later. He took Victor’s free hand in his own, interlocking their fingers, so he would be forced to put the phone away to pull Makkachin’s crate. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

The house sat on the outskirts of Saint Petersburg. Alex Lebedov had picked mostly because of the proximity to the city. It was just close enough to reach the Sport Champions Center within a few minutes by car while still having better privacy than an apartment would. Even Victor’s penthouse didn’t have as much privacy as this. Nothing beat having some actual land separating the homes. Alex stood on the dark porch with a lit cigarette between the fingers of one hand. With the other, he scrolled through his Instagram notifications on his phone. There had been so many more followers. So many supportive comments on his photos.

Then he saw the notification that v-nikiforov posted something.

> [photo: In the brightly colored photo, Victor kissing Yuuri’s cheek in front of a line of welcome posters featuring the Japanese skater superimposed in front of Hasetsu Castle and cherry blossom trees. Yuuri’s cheeks are bright pink. Victor has a slight blush as well.]
> 
> v-nikiforov: this love is ours @katsuki-y

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the phrase is usually something along the lines of the sun breaking through storm clouds, but I like to think that Yuuri would compare Victor’s smiles to bright rainbows. Also, rainbows <3
> 
> You’ve no idea how long it took for be to decide which Taylor Swift song to quote as Victor’s caption. I would have used one of my key songs (there are four, including _Getaway Car_. I wonder if you can guess the other three?) but I wanted to keep it to songs that came out before 2015.


	4. Chapter 4

It was late. Yuuri made sure to tiptoe past the old banquet hall door so as to not wake Victor. From their short time together in Detroit, he learned that the Russian man was a light sleeper. Phichit’s hamsters woke him up with their squeaking and their exercise wheels every night. He never complained though. Even when Phichit apologized for them, Victor said that it was alright, that the hamsters couldn’t help their instincts. Even as he yawned into his cup of coffee.

How he managed to sleep so deeply during their flight, Yuuri didn’t know.

Yuuri was surprised to find the kitchen light on. There was no way his mother was still up. It was three in the morning. Everyone should be asleep. He was only up because he had been checking his neglected social media on his phone and lost track of time.

That day, after Victor shared the selfie of them at the station, all of his accounts were flooded. There were thousands of new comments on old photos and even more tags in posts insulting Victor. There were numerous pages insulting Yuuri as well. The unfortunately normal things, escalated to an uncomfortable level. Some said that he was just dating Victor for the thrill of being with a bad guy for once. Some said he was doing it for fame. It seemed everyone agreed that he was getting paid. Everyone seemed to agree that it was not going to end well. Some sick person even made a fake memorial website for Yuuri, saying that it was only a matter of time.

According to their website countdown, they gave Yuuri about six months.

He planned to get a quick drink and then (hopefully) get a few hours of sleep before his alarm went off. Instead, he found Victor leaning against the counter with a bowl of rice. “Victor?”

Victor nearly jumped, barely catching the ceramic bowl. He caught his breath, looking at Yuuri. For a second, he looked scared. Like he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. Like eating plain rice was a crime. Then, he smiled. His perfect press smile that graced every photo, video, poster. “Yuuri! You’re up.”

Yuuri looked at the bowl. It was literally plain white rice. It didn’t even look warm. Sure enough, when he slipped the dish out of Victor’s hands, it was cold. “We have a microwave, you know,” he teased, gesturing for him to sit at the nearby prep table. As the microwave warmed the rice, Yuuri reached into one cabinet for two glasses, then another for the small bottle of soy sauce. He didn’t understand how his parents managed to put the good soy sauce up so high, or why they still bothered. Both of their children were taller than them.

He felt Victor’s eyes on him the entire time. As he moved around the kitchen, Victor seemed to watch his every move carefully. Cautiously. As though he was waiting for something to happen. Something worse than being served a glass of ice water and a warm bowl of rice with soy sauce. “Thank you.”

Yuuri leaned against the counter, sipping his own water. They did have dinner early. Two huge bowls of katsudon that Victor thoroughly enjoyed and literally asked if that was what the gods ate. Victor took Makkachin for a walk then they both went to unpack his luggage while Yuuri helped his family with the dinner rush.

_“Yuuri, I want you to be careful,” his father said to him as he helped unload the van._

_“Make sure he knows I’m not afraid of going to prison,” Mari told Yuuri as he helped her stack the cushions at the end of the night._

In fact, every single person that came that night made a point of telling Yuuri some variation of “if Victor Nikiforov hurts you, I’ll end him.” He knew he was loved by his home town, but this was slightly scary. This was a dying tourist town, not a yakuza hide out. Right?

The only person not to threaten his boyfriend’s life was his mother. His mother took one look at Victor and wrapped her arms around him, holding him a little tighter and longer than either man expected. He couldn’t help but to wonder about his mother hugging Victor like that. He brought a few boyfriends home in high school and none of them got that welcome. He knew there was more to it than his mother being happy that her son was home.

“You’re not going to eat?”

Victor’s question pulled him out of his thoughts. “Sorry. I ate earlier while you were sleeping.”

They were quiet, The only sounds came from Victor’s spoon against the bowl as he ate and the clinking of the ice in their cups. When he finished his water, Yuuri rinsed his cup and threw it in the dishwasher. He knew his mother liked to run it in the morning as she waited for first pot of coffee. It was loud. Yuuri always meant to get her a new one. “I’ll see you later?”

He was almost out of the kitchen when he heard, “I’m sorry for waking you.”

Yuuri stopped and turned to see Victor looking down at his half empty bowl. With his head hung and shoulders hunched under his jinbei, he looked so small. So fragile. Delicate. Incapable of causing any harm. “I wasn’t asleep yet.”

“So I didn’t wake you?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t know you were awake until I saw you.” With a cold bowl of plain rice. Why did he not want to warm up his food? Was he that afraid of waking someone up? Yuuri watched Victor start eating again. “No one will be upset if you woke them up because you were hungry.”

Victor straightened his back, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders that had kept him down. He smiled, this time a real smile that reached his sleepy eyes. There was a grain of rice in the corner of his lips.

Yuuri wanted to kiss those lips so bad. He’d never wanted to kiss someone this bad so early in a relationship. For Yuuri, that normally didn’t come until after the first month or so. This was different though. This was Victor Nikiforov. He’s had a crush on him for most of his life. Maybe that was why this felt so different. Not yet though.

“Good night, Victor.”

* * *

Once his bowl and cup joined Yuuri’s in the dish washer, Victor pulled on his coat and stepped outside. It was a cool night, though not enough for the Russian to feel the need to grab a jacket. He had been out in worse with less protection from the cold.

Stars twinkled in the inky dark sky. It almost reminded him of the Saint Petersburg house. He’d spent so many hours in the fenced-in back yard, watching the sky as it faded from day to night, and sometimes back to day again. Some days, he couldn’t stand to even set foot in the house after practice, preferring the hard plastic patio chairs to the soft coach inside. Especially on days before a rest day.

Victor raised his right hand to the sky, admiring how his faire skin contrasted with the dark sky. The sleeve of his jinbei slipped down his arm. His eyes fell on the faint scars around his wrist. If he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the cold metal biting into his skin. He could hear the chain links jingling and his phone vibrating from across the room. He could feel Alex’s cold eyes staring as he returned the missed calls, waiting for him to say the wrong words. He hoped that would never happen again.

* * *

Yuuri had just closed his eyes in his dark bedroom when he heard the soft buzz of his phone vibrating. He groaned, wanting to sleep. He had to be up in a few hours and was already not looking forward to it. Especially when he looked at the screen and recognized the area code as being in Detroit. “Phichit-kun, if this is a prank-”

“Yuuri, it’s me.”

Yuuri sat up. “Michael?”

“Yeah, babe,” Michael answered, his voice soft and careful. “Listen, you were right. I didn’t try hard enough to support you. I should have read about this stuff sooner. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m sorry too.” Of all of the exes, this was the first to actually try to apologize. Not that he needed to. It wasn’t their fault that his brain sometimes went into overdrive, anxiety spiraling around a single messed-up thought until it turned into panic.

“So, we’re good?”

“Yes.”

“So listen, I know you’re seeing…someone, but if you gave me another chance, I promise I’ll be there for you no matter what,” Michael said. Pleaded. None of Yuuri’s exes had ever asked for him back. Most acted as though him leaving them was like they dodged a bullet. “Yuuri Katsuki, I love you. Please give me a second chance?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter may be delayed because I have not written it yet (・・;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***＼(^o^)／***
> 
> Sorry for the delay. My old MacBook crashed. Then my old HP stopped connecting to the internet. I got lucky the other day and found a MacBook within my budget so hopefully the updates will come sooner (._.);

Mari did her best to ignore Victor Nikiforov. As her brother’s boyfriend, the Russian stayed in them in the family part of Yuuri’s-Topia Katsuki, which was only so big. She couldn’t completely ignore the man, but she didn’t have to be familiar with him either. No. She merely tolerated his presence. She appreciated the fact that he was training her brother, even if she did think the Russian worked her brother too hard. She would be much happier if Nikiforov could be like any other coach and not date his student.

They left early that morning, far earlier than usual. For a moment, Mari was confused when she watched them walking together from her window. Then she remembered listening to her bother and their mother talking in the kitchen the night before. They (finally) had a rest day and Yuuri planned to take Victor to the beach, but didn’t know what he should bring. Their mother seemed to be the only person in Hasetsu who actually approved of the relationship.

Mari watched them through her cracked window as she smoked. She couldn’t help the sigh when she saw her brother rest his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. She knew her brother was happy. Of course Yuuri was happy. He’d practically been stalking Victor Nikiforov for nearly his entire life. Being able to call his idol his boyfriend had to be a dream come true. She couldn’t help but to think that her brother’s happiness would not last long. It never lasted long. Even if he did look far happier than she had ever seen him, she knew it wouldn’t last. Before long, his nerves will start to get the better of him. She knew Yuuri’s anxiety made him a difficult person to be around.

Then there were the abuse allegations against Victor. Every time she saw the Russian, she thought of when that story broke. It was all people talked about for days. Minako had not set foot in Yu-Topia Katsuki since her once second-favorite figure skater (of course Yuuri was her favorite) had arrived. They couldn’t help worrying that, if the story was true and Victor Nikiforov did have a violent temper, Yuuri’s anxiety might set him off. If that did happen, Mari hoped that they were still in Hasetsu.

Oh how she would love to punch that stupid heart-shaped smile off Nikiforov’s idiotic face.

At least they would only be at the beach for the day. They were far enough to be out of her hair but close enough that she knew her little brother would be safe. She did wish they left Makkachin though. The poodle was likely the only thing she liked about her brother’s boyfriend. Every morning, Makkachin followed Mari, exactly like Vicchan, as she prepared to open the onsen until one of the skaters dragged himself down the stairs. It was usually Nikiforov, who always thanked Mari for watching his “baby girl”, even if all she did was allow the dog to shadow her and made sure her food and water bowls were full. Mari was a little disappointed to see Makkachin bouncing after the couple, but at least she would be able to take her time preparing the mineral pools before guests started to arrive.

She started with the men’s side. The onsen had always been more popular with men, partly because of her brother. Yuuri was Japan’s top male figure skater after all, even if he refused to believe it. For the last five years, Mari knew exactly when Yuuri’s university was on break based on the boost in tourists hoping to see him (not that she ever mentioned it to their parents. She knew it would only cause more problems than it was worth, especially if Minako found out). Since Yuuri’s return, there had been an uptick in business, so the men’s side needed more attention.

Mari had just finished sweeping on that side (as clean as the costumers were coming in, there was always stuff to sweep) when something caught her eyes. She stopped, watching the bushes toward the fence as she took a step back. Sure enough, something tiny flashed from a small gap between the leaves.

Mari set the broom aside before she rolled her shoulders, prepping for anything. Her brother had had creeps try to catch a photo of him in the mineral pools. Apparently, they assumed that, as an athlete, Yuuri would bathe early to prepare for the day. Unfortunately for them, Yuuri preferred to soak at the end of the day. Between Mari’s early morning sweep, their father’s frequent walk-throughs disguised as supply checks, and the regulars, not a single person had ever taken a nude photo of Yuuri Katsuki in the onsen.

There was a worn forest green duffle bag with lots of stitches in various colors, as though the owner had fixed rips with whatever string he had on hand. Blues and pinks. Some gold here. Some white there. Mari ran her fingers along one line of exceptionally neat magenta stitches, mentally noting the dark smudges next to it, before she grabbed the dull steel zipper and opened the bag.

* * *

Hours later, Victor sat the beach with his tilted back under his sun hat, his eyes shut as he took a deep breath. At first, this had been hard. After years of having adoring fans, it had been strange to be avoided, ignored. Sitting on that beach with his dog’s half draped across his lap, Victor realized that he kind of liked it. When was the last time he got to go out with Makkachin like this? Without nearly constantly being asked for autographs and selfies? He couldn’t remember the last time he even took her out for more than a quick walk.

Victor looked down at Makkachin as he stroked the fur on her head. He smiled when she leaned into his fingers. Then he stopped, smile fading away. The last time he took Makkachin out like this had been on a date with Alex. The other man had made lots of small comments about how inconvenient it was to bring a dog. Then, every other outdoorsy date after that, Alex made excuses about why the poodle should be left behind until Victor stopped asking. It was easier to not ask.

Then, Victor heard a buzzing, followed by a tired groan. He looked over in time to see a sleepy Yuuri open his eyes just enough to reject the call before letting his eyelids close again. He couldn’t help his chuckle at the Japanese man’s next groan as the phone started vibrating again. “Who is “Angry”?” Victor asked as he read the contact name. It actually read “ANGRY!”.

“Don’t know,” Yuuri mumbled as he covered his closed eyelids with his forearm. “Make it stop.”

“Yes dear,” Victor teased as he took off his hat. He peeled Yuuri’s arm away from his face, then placed the softest of kisses on the tip of his nose just to see him blush before covering his face with the hat. He loved watching Yuuri blush, hearing that cute little whine that he couldn’t hold back. With a grin, Victor answered the call. “Moshi moshi. Watashi wa Nikiforov-”

“VICTOR IVANOVICH NIKIFOROV!”

Victor jumped so hard he startled Makkachin, who abandoned his lap in favor of the other man’s chest. Victor instantly straightened his back as though he was being watched, critiqued. “Yakov?” He looked down at Yuuri, ignoring his slight jealousy of his own dog, as he asked, “Why is Yakov “Angry”?”

“You know damn well why I’m angry, Victor!” Yakov shouted into the phone.

“I’m in Japan. How would I know?” “Don’t you sass me, Nikiforov,” Yakov snapped. Victor could easily picture his former(?) coach turning red in the face in frustration. Judging from the faint sound of water in the background, Yakov was likely in his office. So much for the calming affects of the water fountain. “If you charged your phone, you would know!”

“I did?” Victor pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. It was on, displaying a photo of Yuuri sleeping on the floor semi-under one of the tables in Yu-Topia’s dining room with his arms around Makkachin and his face buried in her fur. Someday, he’ll post it online for the world to see. Someday, he’ll show Yuuri. For now, it was his and Makkachin’s secret. Then he noticed the tiny words in the top left corner. “Ah. I have no service on the beach.”

“YOU’RE ON A BEACH?” Yakov’s deep breath was audible through the phone. As he ignored Yakov questioning his coaching style, Victor glanced over and caught Yuuri peeking out from under the hat. If he had been a few seconds faster, he could have caught that image on camera. Instead, he barely saw the other man’s blush deepen before he hid his face under the hat again. He could feel his own cheeks start to warm. Yuuri was so cute.

“ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?”

“Yes, yes,” Victor replied.

“I said I have been calling you since last night.”

“Last night?” Victor repeated. When he thought about it, he realized that his phone only seemed to work at the rink and Yu-Topia, where there was Wi-Fi. Even then, he had no calls or text messages for the past few days. “Did something happen?”

Yuuri sat up when he heard Victor’s deep, tired sigh. He watched as he ended the call before asking, “Is something wrong?”

Victor plastered on a smile, so fake it was jarring. “Nothing.”

Something about that smile annoyed Yuuri. Maybe it was, after weeks of seeing his real smile that seemed to light up the world, this one was just so obviously a lie. A mask. He hated it. On an impulse, Yuuri pressed his forehead against Victor’s, letting the hat fall into the sand behind him, as he cupped his cheeks in his hands. The Russian man’s face had gotten a little fuller since they met. He loved it.

He didn’t love that Victor wouldn’t look him in the eyes. Not that Yuuri liked making direct eye contact. He usually preferred to avoid it, but there were exceptions. His family, close friends. Victor. He loved his blue eyes, like the sunlight on the sea waves ahead of them. “Victor?”

“It’s…my ex,” Victor started to say, before pulling away. He looked ahead at those waves. “Yakov said more photos leaked to the press.”

Yuuri watched him as he tried to slip his hand into his, only for the other hand to pull away. Despite being so close, it felt as though Victor was so far away. So lonely. “Victor, I know you didn’t hurt him.”

“But I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I used the name Ivan for the patronymic in Victor’s name NOT to connect this to the Paper Flowers series. I just really like the name Ivan.
> 
> And yes, I'm leaving you all with a cliffhanger for the moment (._.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *you're welcome
> 
> I think?

“But I did.”

Those three words seemed to hang in the air between them. Just three simple words, yet they carried so much weight. They were the admission Yuuri never wanted. He watched Victor, waiting for a punchline to this bad joke. It had to be a bad joke. Surely, he wasn’t serious. This was Victor, the same man that called his dog his “baby girl.” That blushed when he caught him watching. That pressed the softest of kisses on the tip of his nose. Who couldn’t look him directly in the eyes.

Instead, Victor just stared at the waves ahead.

“I…I’ll be back,” Yuuri said as he scrambled to his feet. “Don’t follow me.”

In his haste, Yuuri missed Victor turning around and reaching out to him.

He needed space. He needed to be alone, to process the information those three words had dumped on him. Victor, his Victor, admitted to hurting his ex-fiancé. This was too much to work through while sitting in front of the Russian man.

“But I did,” echoed through Yuuri’s head like a skipping cd as he walked into the forest. This was one of his sanctuaries, when the Ice Castle was too busy and he just needed to be away from people. He never told anyone about it, and clearly it hadn’t been found since it was exactly as he had left it five years before. Even the braided cord he tied to a tree branch was still there, just a little dirty from the changing seasons.

Yuuri touched the cord. Black, wine red, and white with shimmering silver thread, to match his favorite of Victor’s costumes. He once made it with the kumihimo ring his mother found in storage during his breaks, with the goal of one day sending it to his idol. As he wove the threads together, he imagined seeing it in that flowing silver hair. By the time he finished the cord, the season had ended and so went his chances of seeing Victor wear it with that costume. He still planned to send it with a letter he ended up never writing.

Then came the infamous haircut. Still, without ever actually seeing it in the Russian skater’s hair, Yuuri couldn’t help thinking of Victor Nikiforov when he looked at the cord. Until his high school graduation, he wrapped that braided cord around his wrist as much as possible. He even tied it around his ankle for a few competitions. It felt like something close to a lucky charm. Then, his last night in Hasetsu, he tied it to the tree branch. Why was that?

_SNAP_

Yuuri froze, letting the cord slip from his fingers. He turned slowly, examining the forest around him. Suddenly, this place didn’t feel quite as safe as it used to. Someone could easily follow him through the trees and attack him without anyone knowing. Victor could….

The sudden buzz from his pocket made him jump, releasing a very unimpressive squeal. Yuuri caught his breath as he looked at his phone. Yuuri knew exactly who “Trouble” was. He called around this time every day, or night where he was. “Hey. How was work?”

“Dude. I had dried matcha in my hair,” the other man said. “We have like seven new matcha drinks. You’d love it.” Yuuri smiled. A part of his mind could picture Michael sitting between his legs on the floor in front of his mother’s couch as he brushed tiny clumps of dried dark green matcha out of his silvery hair. Then another part helpfully(?) reminded him that Michael had curly blonde hair. “Sounds like you had a long day.”

“Not too long to not call my favorite figure skater.” Yuuri blushed, thankful he was alone (he hoped). He didn’t need anyone seeing him blushing on the phone while his current boyfriend was sitting on the beach very clearly not on his phone. There had already been quite a few celebrity-gossip blogs and magazines that had suspected him of cheating on past partners. He wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with another one. He wasn’t sure of how Victor would deal possibly being cheated on.

“Hey, so is everything alright?” Michael asked, sounding as though he was trying to not be too awkward. And failing.

“Yeah. Why?” Yuuri asked, hoping that Michael didn’t somehow see the photos Victor mentioned.

“I saw the photos of…your boyfriend’s ex.”

“Fuck.” Yuuri didn’t mean to say that out loud. It just happened, like how he started dating Michael with a cheap-champagne-flavored kiss when the ball dropped on New Year’s Day. Still, he had said it loud enough to be heard by his ex, who chuckled. “What?”

“I thought you didn’t know English curse words.”

“I lived on a university campus in Detroit for five years.”

“But I never heard you curse.” Michael then took a breath. “Seriously though. Are you alright?”

Yuuri sat on a tree stump. He leaned forward, curling his body as he forced himself to calm down. “Yeah. I’m alright.” He just needed to convince himself of that.

“Cause like god damn. It looks bad,” Michael commented. Then he paused. “Sorry. Not my business.”

Yuuri shook his head as he said, “It’s alright.” Really, he wanted to talk to someone about it, but didn’t know who. He didn’t want to worry his mother. Mari always looked about two seconds away from punching Victor. He still had not introduced Victor to Minako-sensei and didn’t want that to be her first impression of him. Phichit couldn’t keep a secret to save his life (as evidenced by his Instagram video of completely drunk Yuuri singing _I Knew You Were Trouble_ on karaoke night after he broke up with Michael). Strangely, the ex he sang about was now the one person he felt he could talk to. “Actually. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

A part of Yuuri’s mind wondered if they would have still been together if Michael had been like this sooner. That same part knew that, even if they were still happily together, he would leave him for Victor. The same Victor he needed to talk about now. “Victor said he hurt him.”

There was a moment of silence. Then there was the sound of rustling on the other end. Something thrown on the bed that made the old frame creak. A zipper being unzipped. Then dresser drawers being thrown open.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m packing,” Michael replied. “I’m going to go over there and let whats-his-face know what will happen if he touches you.”

Yuuri smiled at the thought. That would have been a sight. Barista Michael Roberts trying to threaten five-time World Champion Figure Skater Victor Nikiforov. “Um…we’re in Japan.”

“Then I’ll fly to…shit.”

“I appreciate the thought though,” Yuuri said. When he thought about it, he knew he was pretty well protected. Sure, Michael was trying to win him back, but that still gave him some confidence. If his ex was that willing to jump in to protect him, Yuuri suspected that many people in Hasetsu would likely do the same. At the very least, his sister would.

“If you need to, just call me,” Michael said. “Doesn’t matter what time of the day, babe. You just call and I’ll catch the first flight there.”

“I will.”

“Cool.” There was a pause. “Ah shit. I have a paper due in the morning.”

“How much did you write?” “It’s done! I just need to…write it.”

“It’s almost eleven there.” Yuuri was used to the time difference between Hasetsu and Detroit. After five years of calling home, first twice a day then slowly stretching to twice a month, it was hard not to think about it. Still, it was a little strange being the one ahead. “Don’t stay up too late!”

Michael laughed at Yuuri’s concern. “Good night, babe. Love you.”

“Love you too.” It was purely out of impulse that Yuuri said those words. An automatic response. The moment those words left his lips, he wanted to pull them back. Sure, he could have told Michael weeks ago that he wasn’t interested in getting back together. A part of him wanted to leave that door open though. He was a good guy and he did seem to be trying. Still, Yuuri didn’t want to get his hopes up for nothing. “I-”

The call ended.

* * *

“Dumb fuck,” Michael mumbled as he stared at the phone on his desk. There was a small microphone next to the phone’s speaker. The microphone’s cable was plugged into a laptop, where a video editing program took up the entire screen. One side of the software window contained a list of files labeled with Yuuri’s name and date. The other side showed the soundwave of the newly recorded audio file. Michael dragged the curser to the last few seconds, then let it play.

“Love you too.” Yuuri’s voice said loud and clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a plan for this chapter. I spent so much time planning this chapter. This was not it, but I like it so I kept it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This chapter was written while listening to bagpipes. Not exactly sure why, but bagpipes help me when I’m feeling especially anxious.

Almost an hour after he left him, Yuuri was surprised to find Victor exactly where he left him. The Russian man sat on the sandy blanket on the beach with Makkachin’s head on his lap. He could have left. They walked by this beach every day on their way to the Ice Castle. He knew Victor knew how to get back to Yu-Topia. Still, Victor looked as though he didn’t even move from that exact spot. In fact, he looked to be in almost the exact position as when Yuuri turned his back on him. His head was down, his silver bangs swaying in the breeze, and his fingers were tangled in his dog’s fur. Yuuri knew he was asleep just from the movement of his shoulders.

“Victor?” Yuuri tried anyway as he walked around the man. He bent down to peek under his hair at his face. Though he would never tell anyone, this was one of his favorite Victor faces. It felt special, like a great secret that only he knew. Of course, he knew there had to be others that had seen this youthful, peaceful, relaxed version of Victor Nikiforov. Surely, Coach Feltsman had seen it. Alex Lebedov definitely knew it.

A part of Yuuri wanted to look up those photos, and wanted to torture him with the idea that whatever those images showed could be him next. Would be him next. Definitely would be him next, if Victor’s admission was anything to go by. Another part wanted to wake Victor up and question him about it. What did he mean by his admission that he hurt Alex Lebedov? Why? There had to be more. Yuuri had to believe there was more to it.

Yuuri ended up settling with yet another part. He sat down in the sand next to Victor, resting his head on his shoulder. Even if he was troubled by that information, and with his last conversation with Michael, it was still a beautiful day. They did have an early morning. Maybe it would be easier to deal with if he just closed his eyes for a minute….

When Yuuri opened his eyes, he was laying in the sand. Victor still sat next to him, though he had his knees pulled up to his chest and Makkachin was sleeping behind him. The Russian man rested his chin on his knees as he simply stared out at the waves. His eyes were red and puffy, but he looked calm. Not normal calm. Yuuri couldn’t help but to wonder if this was how he looked after a panic attack, when he nothing at all. Just the numb emptiness that made even putting one foot in front of the other seem like a massive task.

Yuuri pulled himself up. Apparently, the man sitting next to him was too deep in his own thoughts to notice the movement. Did Victor have a panic attack? “Victor?”

Nothing

“Victor?” Yuuri tried again as he touched his right wrist.

Victor jumped at the touch. He pulled his hand back as though he had been stung. Then he turned. He looked down at Yuuri’s hands, looking far more tense than he should be. Waiting, as though he expected something to happen.

Yuuri noticed this. He saw the other man flinch as he moved his hands to his lap. He fought his instinct to ball his hands into fists, instead letting them rest open on his thighs (a very unhelpful voice in his head praised him for how much leaner his leg felt). “Victor? It’s me. Yuuri.”

“Yuuri?” Victor said it softly. Like saying it any louder would be wrong. Like a punishable offense.

“Victor, do you know where you are?” Yuuri didn’t like this. Sure, he had some idea of what to do. Unfortunately, he had had far more than his fair share of panic attacks to know how to deal with them. The problem was that he really only knew what worked for him and every person is different.

“Hasetsu Beach.”

“That’s right.” Thank god. Yuuri wasn’t really sure what he should do if he gave him the wrong answer. Of course, Yuuri knew he had had panic attacks that made him forget where he was, even that anything around him was real and not part of some very realistic nightmare. His only memory of those were what people told him after. “Can I touch you?”

“What?” That voice was so soft. So fragile.

“Can I hold your hand?”

Victor finally looked up at Yuuri’s face. For a moment, he seemed to examine him very carefully, as though trying to figure him out. Trying to find something that could be hidden between the lines. Finding nothing, the silver haired man leaned forward and rested his head on the other’s chest. “Hold me?”

Yuuri hummed, smiling as he wrapped his arms around him, feeling the other man’s hands on his back. He was careful to simply rest his arms on him and not apply any pressure. He knew it was likely just enough for him to know that he was there. That he was safe. Yuuri couldn’t help the chuckle when Makkachin suddenly crawled into the space between them with a whine. He heard Victor murmuring softly to the dog in Russian. Yuuri heard Makkachin’s name and his own laced into the soft cooing. He rested his head on Victor’s, just listening to the man’s voice.

“Yuuri?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

As far as public displays of affection went, this was already past Yuuri’s limit. None of his previous boyfriends experienced any version of this where anyone could see. A few attempted, only to be pushed away. No. This was something Yuuri usually only allowed behind closed doors or in empty locker rooms. If holding hands while walking out café doors was enough to make the front page of the gossip magazines, Yuuri didn’t want to know what chaos a hug might cause. This was different, he told himself. This just felt right…and that was alright.

Isn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was going to be longer…but then I decided that the last line was a good place to stop.


	8. Chapter 8

“Yuuri?”

Just like every other morning, Yuuri woke up to Victor knocking on his door with a paper to-go cup (the five time world champion figure skater was surprisingly bad at going up stairs) of green tea for him, sweetened with strawberry jam. Yuuri absolutely hated the combination and, after living in the States for so long, actually preferred coffee first thing in the morning (he once dated a guy that probably lived on coffee and cigarettes. He actually met Michael while on yet another coffee date with him). As always, the Russian looked so proud of himself, like Makkachin whenever anyone gave her pets and called her a good girl (of course Makkachin was a good girl. All dogs are good*). Yuuri could suffer through a few sips of tea while Victor went over their training schedule if it meant seeing that smile for the rest of the day.

Truthfully, Yuuri didn’t really feel like going to practice. What was supposed to be a relaxing day at the beach the day before had turned into anything but. Despite not even setting foot on the ice or in the gym or dance studio, he was exhausted by the time they returned late that night. He still felt that same tiredness as he sat up. He saw the same tiredness in Victor’s movements as he slowly sat on the edge of the large bed.

Wait…Yuuri’s bed wasn’t this big. He squinted as he looked around, then his eyes shot wide open, suddenly wide awake from the shock. “I’m in your room.”

“Yes?”

Before Yuuri could question why he was there, he remembered. The night before, when they stopped in front of Victor’s door, the older man was so hesitant to let his hand go. Yuuri felt his hand trembling in his own, he saw the dull numbness already creeping back into those usually shining blue eyes, and knew he couldn’t just leave him like that.

He had never actually shared a bed with anyone. Even if all they did was whisper to each other in the dark with Makkachin laying between them, it felt so much more intimate than Yuuri felt it should have. At the same time, it almost didn’t feel like enough. Their fingertips accidentally brushing while they pet the poodle wasn’t enough. Yuuri wanted so much more, but he didn’t want to push too fast. He knew what it felt like when his exes tried to rush through this delicate phase of the relationship (key word: exes).

“Is this alright?” Victor asked as he handed Yuuri the tea.

Yuuri took a sip, hoping he managed to hide his cringe at the flavor enough for the other man to not notice. Then he switched the cup for the glasses on the nightstand, which he slipped on to better watch Victor as he replied, “It’s your room. Is this alright with you?”

Victor paused for a moment to process it, then nodded with a smile. “I liked it,” he said, then he looked away, “but your sister gave me a look.”

No. Oh no. Mari likely saw Victor bringing the tea to this room instead of his bedroom. It was easy to imagine what must have gone through her mind. Probably the same trash that made every gossip article and blog every time he was seen leaving a boyfriend’s apartment building or parents’ house. “The Walk of Shame” they called it, even if it was anything but. Even though nothing ever happened beyond a little cuddling, Yuuri always felt embarrassed when the photos of him trying to hide his face under the hood of whatever hoodie he wore the day before as he walked out the door, his flushed face not helping his case at all.

Yuuri doubled over, burying his now blushing face in Makkachin’s fur. He didn’t want to leave this room ever again. Not if it meant he would have to face Mari. He knew that he would eventually have to leave. “Can we skip practice?”

“We skipped yesterday.”

“Let Coach Nikiforov know I’m not feeling well and can’t skate today.”

“Coach Nikiforov is not going to go easy on you tomorrow.”

“That is a Tomorrow-Yuuri problem.” Truthfully, Yuuri really didn’t having to deal with Coach Nikiforov, even if that version of Victor was a bit…intense. Actually, his coach was slightly terrifying when he was completely focused on Yuuri's skating. Then again, Yuuri didn’t expect anything less from anyone that trained under Yakov Feltsman.

“In that case,” the older man started to say, before laying himself across the bed. He draped an arm across his eyes, blocking out what little morning light came in through the windows. Yuuri tilted his head up, his chin still resting in Makkachin’s fur. He could spend the rest of the day watching the other man like this. He looked so calm, so relaxed. Not quite as relaxed as when he slept, but close.

“Victor?”

“Hm?”

“On your rest days, what do you usually do?”

“Nothing. Sleep.”

“Huh.” Yuuri didn’t expect that. He thought that Victor would go out. Likely go shopping and grab a nice lunch at a cute café with lots of delicious pastries and servers that couldn’t resist flirting with him. Maybe go out to clubs with his friends and/or rink mates, like he did when Phichit started dragging him out. Sure, he understood the desire to stay home and catch a couple of naps, but sleeping all day seemed a bit excessive.

Then there was a knock on the door. “Yuuri,” Mari called, then (thankfully) continued in Japanese, “cover up. I’m coming in

“Mari!” Yuuri shouted in exasperation as he hid his face in Makkachin’s fur again. Victor’s soft giggle (the Victor Nikiforov giggles. Yuuri could barely handle it) made it all better though.

Mari wished she had a camera when she opened the door. Two of the world’s best figure skaters were laying on the bed like the lazy teenage boys they probably never really got to be. At least, she knew her brother didn’t. There was never any time. He had schoolwork, then skating, and then ballet. Even on his rest days were mostly spent in the kitchen helping their mother with the dishes or, when he was old enough, at the weird part time job he thought he managed to keep secret. She could only guess that Victor was likely just as busy as a teenager.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for practice?” Mari asked, switching to English.

“We’re skipping today,” Yuuri replied. Obviously.

Mari glanced over at Victor, who only smiled at Yuuri’s response. Both men looked perfectly content to just lay there all day. Too bad she had other plans for them. “Oh good. Get up. We’re going shopping.” She stopped mid-turn when she only heard her brother move on the bed and added, “You too Nikiforov.”

* * *

Yuri Plisetsky frowned at his phone. Fuck Yakov, treating him like a child. He was fifteen years old. He was practically an adult. He even had his own money that he earned from ice shows and junior competitions. He was supposed to be working on his programs for his senior debut, but then his choreographer decided to fly to Japan and start dating Katsuki, of all people. Yuuri-cried in a dirty bathroom stall after the worst free skate in Grand Prix Finals history-Katsuki. He did try to call Victor, only for his calls to be either replied with a message saying “busy ;)” or just outright rejected. And now that he was in Hasetsu, Victor’s phone was not working. Great. Just fucking great.

Yuri opened the Instagram app to turn off his location. One of these days, he’s going to figure out which of his followers was actually Yakov and block him once and for all. They tried. There was one day when their coach cancelled practice at the last minute, so they ended up bringing lunch to Victor’s dusty apartment to eat while attempting to compare their followers. They ended up finding that they had at least two hundred followers in common before they were forced to stop. Coach Lebedov wouldn’t stop texting Victor. Annoying.

When Yuri saw his selfie again (whoever designed that tiger shirt deserved a goddamn award), something in the background caught his eyes. He held the phone closer to his face, squinting his eyes at it. No. There was no way. Apparently, Yuri had been so busy trying to get a good shot of his epic new tiger shirt, he didn’t notice Victor and Katsuki walk right behind him.

Go fucking figure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *All cats are good too =^.^=


	9. Chapter 9

Yuuri loved this expression on Victor’s face. The way his excitement added that extra sparkle to his eyes was breathtaking. And that heart-shaped smile (how?). Usually, Yuuri couldn’t help smiling himself, especially since he was often the cause of it. He was the cause of it this time too, but not because of anything he did

“This shot is AMAZING! LOOK!” Victor shouted excited as he turned the book in his hands, presenting a two-page photo that featured an off-center Yuuri in all black under sparkling blue lights in a full Ina Bauer. _The Official Katsuki Yuuri Fan Guide._ Of course, Victor found the limited edition, with the store-exclusive holographic slipcover, sticker sheet, and a pullout poster. To Yuuri’s horror, this wasn’t the only book about him. This particular bookstore seemed to have a whole section dedicated to him. There were shelves stocked with the fan guides (why so many?), doujinshi (some wrapped in plastic with explicit warnings), figures, posters, stickers, plushies, even stationary supplies that were themed after him.

He hated it.

Victor loved it.

Their shopping trip started with Mari at the grocery store. Strangely, she spent more trying to get Victor’s ideas for dinner rather than her brother’s. At first, Victor was hesitant to suggest anything. Then, Mari stopped them in the middle of an aisle and threatened him with beef stroganoff from a box made with ground beef for the rest of the week unless he started giving her better ideas. After that, Yuuri was left following helplessly with the cart as his sister and his boyfriend proceeded to plan and shop for the family’s meals (though Mari did stop him when he tried to add frozen fries, instead grabbing an extra bag of potatoes).

After that-and grabbing lunch at the food court (“Really Nikiforov? Large fries?”) Mari left them to bring the groceries home while they kept shopping. Yuuri wanted to pick up a book he’d been waiting for and thought it would be a nice date do-over.

Yuuri already had his book, and a few more, in his bag. If he had known that Victor would find a book in a language he could not read that made him that happy, Yuuri might have waited to pay for his purchase. Even if it embarrass him, he would buy it just to make that excited smile last.

“I don’t remember seeing this performance?” Victor commented as he turned the book to look at the photo again. “It looks recent. Last year? Year before?”

Yuuri didn’t know what to say. On the one hand, he was thinking, _‘Oh my god. Victor Nikiforov watched my videos!’_. On the other, it was _‘Oh no. Victor Nikiforov watched my videos.’_ While he was flattered that his boyfriend/coach took the time to watch videos of his previous performances, it also meant that he saw every mistake. Every stumble. Every fall. Every popped jump and touch. Every over and under rotated jump. And he would catch every single one.

 _‘He has a very nice profile,’_ Yuuri’s mind unhelpfully provided, which silenced all the other thoughts and made him blush. He really did have a nice profile, and the sunlight shining through the dirty store window lit up his silver hair like moonlight and caught his face at just the right angle to really highlight the freckles that had started appearing on his cheeks. Yuuri wanted to kiss those cheeks. If he were bolder, he would. He would kiss those cheeks. That chin. That nose The corner of those lips. Those lips themselves. Those lips looked so soft. Yuuri couldn’t help biting his own chapped lip, hoping that Victor was too focused on the photo to notice.

Unfortunately, neither man noticed they had company.

“I FOUND YOU ASS HOLES!”

That was the only warning they got before Yuuri felt the kick against his lower back. He would have crashed into the bookshelf if Victor hadn’t caught him and held him close. For a moment, Yuuri allowed himself to relax a little. His boyfriend used a lot of different moisturizers and creams whose scents mixed with his cologne and the onsen’s laundry detergent very nicely. He loved it. He would have loved it more if Victor’s arms didn’t feel so tense around him.

“Yura,” Victor said, suddenly sounding less like Yuuri’s Victor and more like international television Victor Nikiforov. Very professional, to the point of feeling painfully artificial. If Yuuri hadn’t witnessed it, he might not have believed that this was the same man that literally squealed over the holographic puppy stickers when they walked in (Yuuri may have purchased a couple of sheets for him). “We don’t kick people.”

“Like I give a fuck,” the teenager countered, shoving his hands deeper in his jacket pockets. Maybe they should start kicking people. It felt pretty good. At least, he felt pretty good. “We don’t curse either,” Victor added with a shake of his head as he released Yuuri. “What would Yakov say?”

“Who the fuck you think I learned from?”

 _‘This is going nowhere,’_ Yuuri thought as he watched the Russians. In fact, they looked very content to stand there arguing in the bookstore. The employees and other costumers were clearly not as amused. “Why are you here?”

“This idiot,” Yuri started, suddenly jerking a finger at Victor, “promised to choreograph a program for me!”

“I did?” Victor mumbled, resting a finger on his lip as he thought. Truthfully, he couldn’t really remember talking to the teenager before the Sochi Grand Prix, where Yakov decided that the two should share a room. It was miserable. When he wasn’t at the arena, and therefore not being ~~stalked~~ followed by at least one camera (either for television or online streaming), his phone was vibrating non-stop. Alex saying hi. Alex asking what he was doing. Alex asking who he was with. Alex wanted pictures of everyone Victor talked to. Alex wanted pictures of his meals. Alex wanted to know exactly how much he was exercising. Alex wanted Victor’s weight and temperature every morning and night. Alex wanted to talk. Alex wanted to have phone sex. Alex wanted

“YOU FORGOT!?” The teenager shouted incredulously, ignoring Katsuki’s frantic shushing and the annoyed glances from other people. He heard from their rink mates that Victor was forgetful, but was it even possible to be this bad?

“I forgot!” Victor concluded, sounding far more cheerful than he really should. “You know I’m forgetful.”

“Whatever. We’re going back to Russia!”

Yuuri looked up at Victor. Was this it? Someone flew all the way from Russia to take Victor home. Would he go? He didn’t realize that he had grabbed Victor’s hand until he felt the now-familiar reassuring squeeze.

“Sorry Yura. I promised I’d coach Yuuri.”

“This pig?” Yuri shouted, glaring at Yuuri.

“”This pig” has the best presentation scores and cleanest triple axel in our division,” Victor stated firmly, sounding completely confident as Coach Nikiforov should, which immediately slipped with, “and the best ass in figure skating.”

Yuuri saw the teenager almost peek. He felt people behind on actually look. Did those girls in their high school uniforms giggle? Either way, he wanted out of that store. “Can we talk about this at home?”

“I want to see your rink.”

“Tomorrow,” Yuuri promised as he took the book from Victor’s hand. He made sure he tucked the flap of the slipcover on the page before closing the book. He was sure he saw some pretty bookmarks by the register. Maybe he’ll buy one for Victor too. “Why not today?” Yuri demanded loudly. Before either man could reply, the teenager’s stomach growled. He huffed loudly, crossing his arms in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. The sudden red coloring on his cheeks gave him away though. “What’s there to eat around here?”

They ended up returning to Yu-Topia. To Yuuri’s surprise, his father almost immediately pulled Victor aside. While he showed Yuri around the onsen and got him set up with a private bath, he couldn’t help worrying about Victor. What did his father want with him? Since Victor arrived, his father showed no interest in him beyond the exchanged morning greeting. Maybe he wanted Victor to leave and was using this as this opportunity to kick him out. Was he going to return to Victor’s room that night to find it empty?

Later that night, Yuuri had to help his mother with food prep for the dinner rush due to a soccer game on TV. When he was finally released, he found Victor seated at a table surrounded by his father and his friends, all of whom were at varying degrees of drunk. Victor’s cheeks were slightly pink where the blue paint had smeared off. When all of the men around him suddenly cheered at the TV and Toshiya threw an arm around the Russian, Victor looked up at Yuuri with a confused smile. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

**.**

.

**.**

In a quieter room, Yuri ended his phone call. He let out a frustrated sigh. Of course he knew Yakov would tell his dedushka about his unsupervised trip to Japan. Of course he expected a call from him. Yuri just didn’t expect his dedushka to sound so disappointed. He was practically an adult! He was competing against adults this season. Why did everyone still treat him like a child? Whatever. Yuri tapped on the Instagram icon. Maybe looking at the comments on his last selfie will help, he decided. Most of them did. Some of them questioned if he saw the idiots in the background and if he found them. Yuri almost replied when something caught his eyes.

a_lebedov1987 liked the post.


	10. Chapter 10

_Victor sat on the bed in Alex’s house. At least, it was the same bed from that bedroom. He probably knew that bed better than any other piece of furniture in that house. Victor spent most of his rest days there. The metal cuff around his right wrist made sure of that. He couldn’t see any of the familiar outlines of the bedroom furniture though. It was as though everything beyond that bed had ceased to exist. If he couldn’t feel the soft mattress under him, Victor might not have known the bed was there. Everything was so dark, so cold. He tried to pull the thick comforter up around himself, but it wouldn’t budge. His fingers just slipped against it like ice. Instead, he pulled his legs up to his chest, shivering in the cold._

_Then Victor heard a loud crack, followed by an even louder dog yelp. “Makkachin!” He shouted as he jumped out of the bed. Then he was falling_

_Falling_

_Falling_

_Falling_

_Until Victor landed on the floor of a dark room. Alex was suddenly over him, pinning him down to the cold floor with hands on his shoulders. Blood dripped down his forearm from what was clearly a dog bite. Makkachin. “Alex, where is Makka-”_

_Alex kissed him forcefully, pressing his lips even harder when Victor tried to turn his face away. By the time he broke off the kiss, the skater beneath him was sobbing. He ran a hand through his own auburn hair, smearing blood on his face. Then he took Victor’s chin and turned his head as he whispered into his ear, “Look what you made me do, Vitya.”_

_Victor expected to see Makkachin. Instead, he saw Yuuri, laying completely still on the ice with his last Grand Prix gold medal twisted tight around his neck. Lifeless._

* * *

Victor awoke to something heavy falling on his chest. For a moment, he froze, staring up at the wood-paneled ceiling. One of his lamps was left on, the one with the soft yellow lightbulb that cast everything in a warm light. He could feel Makkachin at the foot of the bed, the rise and fall of her chest on top of his feet as she breathed in her sleep. He felt her current-favorite toy there too: a plush figure skate that had been part of a practically mythical Katsuki Yuuri Signature Collection from years before (most of it was skate equipment, but there was also the one dog toy and a blanket).

Victor then caught the soft snoring and found Yuuri next to him. The other man was half on his chest, covered by the comforter. He was only visible from the cheekbones up. His arm was stretched across Victor’s body, draping the warm blanket over him.

For a moment, Victor simply sat there, watching him breathe, feeling him own breathing fall into sync with his as he calmed. Judging from the dusting of pink on his cheeks just visible over the edge of the stolen comforter and the slight crinkle of his eyes, Yuuri was having a good dream. Victor wished he could see whatever it was that made Yuuri this happy. Despite his own loneliness, Victor didn’t try to wake Yuuri. It wouldn’t be fair to him to wake him up just because of a nightmare. Especially when it was very likely that he had just fallen asleep, or passed out from the cheap beer they drank with his father and his friends. He deserved to stay in whatever good dream he was having. He deserved happiness. He didn’t need to be woken up because Victor felt lonely.

When Victor looked back up at the ceiling, the image of Yuuri in his nightmare flashed through his head again. When he closed his eyes, the afterimage became clearer behind his eyelids. If Yuuri wasn’t right there, Victor might have thought it was real. He needed that image out of his mind.

* * *

The microwave had a second left when Victor opened the door. He dropped a cheap chamomile tea bag (he was still surprised they found his favorite brand at the grocery store) into the travel cup of warm water. He turned to grab the strawberry jam from the fridge, and jumped when he saw something move in the corner of his eye. “Yuuri! You scared me!”

Yuuri stood there with the navy blue throw blanket with his signature embroidered on the corner in silver from Victor’s couch around his shoulders, staring at Victor’s cup. “Tell me you didn’t just microwave your water.”

“Okay! I didn’t microwave my water,” Victor replied, a bit too cheerful. He leaned back into the fridge, searching for the jam. In the morning, Hiroko-okasan usually pulls it out for him as he microwaves the water for their tea. To his surprise, he finds it next to three bento boxes, labeled with neat Hiragana and Kanji. He easily recognized his name in the former and Yuuri’s in the latter on two boxes, and assumed the third was for Yuri.

“We have an electric kettle,” Yuuri said, gesturing toward the appliance in the corner next to the microwave.

“I’m used to the microwave.” Having first lived alone in the Saint Petersburg skaters’ dorm, then his own apartment, Victor never needed to heat up more than a single cup of water for tea. Alex didn’t even drink tea, preferring to drink coffee in a specific mug with two spoons-from a specific spoon-of sugars and one cream, or vodka.

Yuuri sighed, walking to the kettle to turn it on. He grabbed a random mug from the cabinet and tossed a green tea bag in. He yawned into the corner of the blanket. “Why are you up?”

“No reason,” Victor replied, dropping a spoon of jam into his tea. He liked to add the jam while the tea was seeping. “You?”

“Yurio talks in his sleep.” Yuuri woke up to the teenager speaking an odd mix of Russian and English with an accent that was much thicker than when he was awake. He left when he heard the cackling. Nope. He was not going anywhere near that. Even Makkachin left, though that could have been because both humans keeping her company were gone.

After the kettle quietly beeped, both men stood in silence. Victor pushed the sticky jar of jam over to Yuuri, and was surprised when he simply put it back in the fridge. He watched as he simply took a yellow packet from a large cardboard box under the counter and poured it into his green tea. He waited until Yuuri sipped his tea and let out a content sigh before asking, “You don’t put jam in your tea?”

Yuuri shook his head.

“But you drink it that way every morning!” Victor said. Then he realized that Yuuri drank it that way every morning because he made it that way every morning. “Why didn’t you tell me you don’t drink your tea with jam?”

Yuuri looked down at his mug, realizing far too late which mug it was. It had Victor’s Olympic green costume printed on it that he bought at a dealer stand at an anime convention a few years before he went to Detroit. He used to drink tea out of this mug every morning, even brought it to hotels during competitions to use in his room. It stayed in Hasetsu when he left though, another thing he had decided was childish and needed to be left behind. Now, he kind of wished he brought it. At least it would have been packed away with all of his Detroit Victor Nikiforov stuff and not ready to use in front of the man.

“You look so happy when you make it,” Yuuri said, his cheeks warming as he looked at Victor from the corner of his eyes. He saw Victor staring at him. Unfortunately, that angle was just off the edge of his glasses lens, so the Russian’s face was just a blur under a shiny silver blur. He looked back down at his tea, at his reflection in the tea. “I love seeing you smile like that.”

Victor wished he could capture this moment. Moonlight came in through the window, illuminating Yuuri like a silver halo. Under the blanket, his clothes were disheveled from sleep, his black hair still messy. His cheeks were a soft pink that reminded Victor of cotton candy and the cherry blossoms petals that fluttered away too soon. Victor couldn’t capture that moment. Even if he had his phone on him, no photo could ever capture the beauty that was Yuuri Katsuki in his eyes. Not even the photos taken by the best photographers in that fan book came close to this. “Can I hold you?”

Yuuri looked up at Victor, studying his face for a moment. Then he moved the mug into one hand to hold the other side of the warm blanket for Victor to join him. Perhaps he should have been worried when the supposedly violent man wrapped his arms around his shoulders, so close to his neck. He didn’t though, too tired to think about anything beyond the hesitation in Victor’s voice and the need to comfort him.

Victor buried his face in the crook of Yuuri’s neck. He smelled nice, like the cherry blossom body lotion and tea tree shampoo he used, mixed with dog and cologne that must have come from the bed. Yuuri rubbed Victor’s back, like so many people had done for him during panic attacks. He knew this wasn’t one, but he didn’t really know what else to do. So they stood there like that for a minute. In the middle of sipping his tea, a thought came to Yuuri. “Victor, have you been microwaving my tea every morning?”

“Is that why your mother gives me that weird look?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just say I edited most of this and posted it while drinking cheap champagne.
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day! 
> 
> *chugs champagne like our boy at the Sochi banquet*


End file.
